


There's Never Three Times

by QueenBoudica



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Betrayal, Canon Compliant, Gen, Homiecide, Horror, Insanity, Murder, Not A Fix-It, POV Second Person, Plot Twists, Pre-Canon, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Sword of Gryffindor, The Founders - Freeform, Unreliable Narrator, basically a fic about how the founders died, bc they're homies, no really y'all it's some dark shit here, yeah i spelled that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica/pseuds/QueenBoudica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has to die sometime. For some, it comes more naturally than others. As the bodies of Hogwarts' founders lie strewn across the floor, another ruminates on how it had happened, and what was to come next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Never Three Times

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This piece heavily features insanity and mental degradation. It also has premeditated murder, gore, beheadings, and betrayal.  
> If there's anything I left out, please please tell me because I really want to make sure I can help everyone keep themselves safe.
> 
> So this idea came to me while I was supposed to be beta'ing a fic or finishing one of my other twenty-odd unfinished ones. So what do I do? I ignore everything else in favour of churning out this angsty piece of shit.
> 
> Title comes from Leslie Odom Jr's "Last Man" in the musical Venice. It's basically a survival/revenge anthem so like  
> my faves

You stood in the bathroom, looking into the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, eyes cold and unforgiving. There’s blood in your hair. You hadn’t noticed that before. Still, there was a lot you hadn’t noticed. You still cursed yourself for thinking Helga would be the easiest. Even as she saw Godric’s lifeless body, she’d stood until her last breath. She was far stronger than you’d anticipated. 

She’d almost bested you, with her courage and determination. She’d had a look of terror on her face the whole time, yet she never faltered. Until the end, that is. Until she was about to land the killing blow. But she looked upon your face, and she wavered. That moment was all you’d needed to draw up Godric’s sword and bring it through her chest. You’d almost wished that it hadn’t had to be that way. But she was loyal to the last, and would’ve never forgiven you for killing Godric. 

Godric. That arrogant fool. He’d subsisted on his naive ideals about chivalry and courage until the last. Right up until you cut off his head with his own sword. His face had been wreathed in shock, pain, betrayal, and, sweetest of all, fear. For the man who spent his life preaching bravery, there was no fitter end for him than in cowardice. 

You idly contemplated the tattered hat in your hands. It seemed fitting, somehow, that the hat he always wore during his life was only parted from his head at the same time as the rest of his body. But then again, you’d always had a morbid sense of humor. 

A trickle of blood ran into your mouth. You’re not sure whose it was. It carried the bitter tang of iron, but even that couldn’t remove from your mouth the taste of dust. Of ashes and sorrows. Not regrets, certainly. You’d taken great pleasure in killing your colleagues. Still, it did little to alleviate the emptiness inside of you. You’d always thought that once they’d paid, you would feel whole again. Vengeance was supposed to burn from you the apathy brought on by dreary existence. But no matter. You weren’t done, after all.

You picked up the discarded diadem from the floor. Its owner remained lost to you. Hidden behind veils of trickery. It didn’t matter. You would find that slippery one soon enough. 

For now, you admired the way it glittered in the candlelight. The flames flickered in the silver jewels. You felt drawn to it. Perhaps it was the jagged edges, shards of glass fused together to create an instrument of beauty. Of awe. And of power. Yes, it suited you. A deadly grace hidden behind a dance of beauty and wit. 

You watched your reflection in the mirror, as you slipped it over your hair. The deadly jewels’ beauty was highlighted by the cracks in the glass. It was time to stop hiding. You weren’t some weak creature, a scavenger. You were a hunter, and it’s about time your prey knew you were coming. The serpent on the front of the crown wouldn’t do. It needed something that befitted its new owner. Not a raven, you decided. Something new, something... deadly.

A shimmer appeared over the diadem, and the serpent twisted and stretched until, in its place, stood a proud eagle. 

Your lips curled up in a smirk. Yes, you thought. This would do. This would do nicely.

**Author's Note:**

> Ooh plot twist!  
> I'm so original!  
> Look I just really like the idea of Rowena being the secretly evil one okay  
> She's actually my favourite  
> Look sorry if I have weird ways of expressing my love  
> Also, in my hc, the diadem was actually slytherin's but Ravenclaw was all: "it's shiny so imma steal it"


End file.
